


Equalized

by theonewhohums



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, this poor guy deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonewhohums/pseuds/theonewhohums
Summary: "A memory flashed before his eyes... His boot coming down on the mask, crumpled on the floor of one of the storage areas in the Probending Arena. The sound of glass shattering as his foot grounded the tinted green goggles into the floor, and his heart clenching as he had lifted his face up to look his leader in the eye."





	

The sky was fading from a bright blue into dismal shades of gray. Large, billowing clouds resembling smoke slowly filled the sky, leaving not a single patch of the usually cheery looking blue. The wind slowly began to pick up speed, blowing leaves and Equalist rally posters around the streets and alleys of Republic City. Many would describe the empty streets and heavy silence in the air as "the calm before the storm," but it was the opposite actually. The real storm had already passed.

The crowd outside of the Probending Arena was finally starting to thin out. The Equalist rally and public scene that had followed shortly afterwards had been over for a while, but the people of Republic City had remained outside. The throng of people stood there quietly, staring at the water as if the mask would once again float to the surface of the bay, and the man embodying their hopes and also their fears would rise out of the water after it. They stood there for a long time, before a young man pointed out that the sky was getting dark, and they should probably leave to escape the impending onslaught of rain.

And so the people of Republic City began to return to their houses. Or at least the ones who still had homes did. Smoke could still be seen hanging in the air around the metropolis, where bombs had fallen from Equalist airships and destroyed the homes of hundreds of the citizens, both benders and nonbenders alike. Despite the fact that the bombs had ceased dropping and Amon had fled beneath the surface of Yue Bay, the citizens of Republic City practically tip-toed around, afraid that any loud noise would cause the chaos to start again. No one spoke louder than a murmur, and most conversations were short-lived as they walked through the streets and viewed the carnage of the city that had been built many years ago as a place for peace.

Broken glass covered the streets from shops and restaurants that had been blown to smithereens in the city-wide war. Many of the towering skyscrapers had been leveled down to nothing more than piles of broken concrete and powdered glass. Flames could still be seen devouring some of the buildings, and upon seeing the ominous clouds rolling in, the water benders that had been working hard to put out the blazes ceased their efforts and headed home along with the rest of the crowd. The heavy rain that would surely fall would put out the fires faster than they would have.

Soon, everyone had taken cover inside. Windows and shutters were pulled closed. Doors were locked. Families were huddled together in bedrooms, thanking the spirits that they were alive, and grieving the ones who weren't anymore. The streets were empty.

Except for one person.

A man slowly opened the doors of the Probending Arena and looked at ghost-town streets of Republic City. With a sore body and a heavy heart, he trudged through the empty streets, trying his hardest to keep his mind blank. He didn't want to think of the events that had unfolded that day. He kept his eyes averted, afraid to look at that the broken city that lay out before him. He couldn't look at it. He couldn't think about it. He just had to make it home.

Home.

He stopped. He didn't know where that was, did he? For the past five years he had lived in the tunnels beneath the city, with all the rest of the Equalists. But it wasn't as if he could go back there now. Memories of the day began resurfacing again, but he pushed them down with all his might, gritting his teeth and marching on. He would find someplace. It wasn't as if he hadn't slept on the streets before. His entire childhood consisted of sleeping in doorways and underneath awnings, using faded newspapers as blankets against the bitter cold of Republic City nights. He forged on.

Finally the man came to Republic City Park. It was the center of the city, and one of the most beautiful parts of it. The man swiveled his head left and right, not believing his eyes. The parked looked completely unscathed, as if a force field had been surrounding it while bombs rained down on the city. The fountain at the center was still spouting crystal clear water, allowing a light spray to blow through the strong winds. The trees retained their emerald green leafing, and the park benches looked as if they could have just been painted this morning. If one looked at only the park, they never would have believed that the city had been a war zone only hours beforehand.

Thunder bellowed above. The man looked toward the sky as rain began to fall from the heavens in big, fat drops resembling tears. It seemed as if even the sky was grieving what had happened in Republic City that day. A raindrop hit the man's upturned face, and he jumped slightly at the sensation of it. He had forgotten that his face was bare. He reached up and touched the pale skin on his face, wondering how long it had been since he had been out in public without his mask. A memory flashed before his eyes before he could squander it. His boot coming down on the mask, crumpled on the floor of one of the storage areas in the Probending Arena. The sound of glass shattering as his foot grounded the tinted green goggles into the floor, and his heart clenching as he had lifted his face up to look his leader in the eye.

The man shook his head.

The rain began to fall harder, and the uniform that the man had once worn with pride slumped on his shoulders as it became soaked with water droplets. He trudged toward the pavilion on the east end of the park and ducked underneath the sloped roof. He sank to the ground with a tired huff. In the distance, he could see large expanse of the city. Smoke rose into the sky as the remaining fires were put out by the sheets of rain falling to the earth.

He tried to convince himself that the bombs weren't his fault. That he wasn't partly responsible for this entire mess, the entire _war_. But the lies he tried to tell himself didn't convince him, or soothe his thoughts in the slightest. As he looked out towards the city, at the cratered streets and the burning buildings, the skyscrapers reduced to ash and rubble, the families holding each other in the darkness and asking one another if they were okay, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was his fault.

Water dripped down his face, and it took him a second to realize it wasn't raindrops that were leaving wet trails down his cheeks. His gloved hands went to his face again, and he touched the corner of his eye and brought his hand back to the front of his face. They were tears, he realized, hot salty tears that were slowly dripping down his face.

Why was he crying? Men did not cry.

But what kind of man was he? To be so easily swayed into doing someone else's dirty work all these years. To be convinced that one man could be answer to all of the world's problems. The solution, he called himself. Surely, a real man would have realized that person was a phony, that ushering in a new era of peace, free of oppression, would not have included the bombing of thousands of innocent people. A good man would have thought that allowing Amon to rip a piece of someone's identity from them was not the way to overcome oppression. A smart man would have figured out that Amon was nothing more than a liar. Amon didn't really care about him at all. Nor did he care for the non-benders of the city. He was just another tyrant trying to mold the world to fit his twisted vision.

A wise man would have realized that Amon did not love him. He had been lied to.

Amon lied.

The tears continued to trail down his face as he thought of how much Amon had influenced his life. Most of the decisions he had made over the past ten years had been under the influence of Amon. He put so much faith into every word Amon gave to him. The only person he had ever fully put his trust into was someone who hadn't told a single truth since the moment they met. Not even to his right-hand man.

The Lieutenant.

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally published 8/16/12)


End file.
